Towards The Sun
by FlashyDwarf
Summary: Daryl and Carol's journey to happiness. Kind of a watch-it-take-place romance with potential drama, romance and emotional hurt. Plus maybe the introduction of some old friends and some room for a little giggity. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

**So, its the holidays! I have a few weeks before I traipse off to uni and I need something to get me out of the bleakness of being unemployed and bored and get me into the routine of writing again. :) I've been watching The Walking Dead lately and I really wanted to write some Caryl (I really do hate all the other romantic relationships in the series, they seem so pointless) so I'll throw my love of this couple into a word document and see what comes out. ;)**

**By the way, I have a habit of stealing the chapter titles from elsewhere. I don't own those names, so just ignore. It keeps me focused on what I want to get across in that chapter. :) I also love introducing stuff with a song. Its also a habit.**

**OKAYS! Enjoy. Please Review!**

Prologue

(I'm a man's man, in a man's world

But you make me blush like a little girl

I wanna pick you flowers and buy you stuff

You're like cold beer: can't get enough)

To Daryl, Merle was everything. He hunted with him, fought with him and spent his every day trying to make his life better. Never had he expected to look in the warm, brown eyes of another being and love them in the way he loved him. The short 'mucky brown' hair and constantly splodgy red skin of his face made him appear religiously dirty and devilish, a trait Daryl saw in himself. In fact, he was the spitting image of him, except where Daryl's eyes had acquired deep wrinkles from years of staring down a crossbow, Merle's were clear and baby-fresh with hardly a line except the creases when he shared a wide, melting smile with his father.

Merle JR had been born around five years ago, they thought though they had no way to tell the exact time or date. If it was up to Carol their son would've had a more sophisticated name but she understood how much it meant to Daryl and in a way she was honored that he thought so highly of the little tyke. When she had become pregnant it was more than her partner could manage, he had thrown himself into a tantrum but after the short period of initial shock came a nine-month bout of complete and utter devotion to the bulge on her stomach and the safety of the baby.

For a while after the bouncing, cheeky baby boy was born Carol would have vivid, wonderful dreams. In these dreams, Merle and Sophia played idly at she and Daryl's feet while they all sipped ice tea and ate the fish and woodland creatures that Merle had no doubt caught with his father that day. The world was warm and joyful again in her dreams, her old family home was still standing, there was and had never been an 'Ed' and their old neighbors were always popping in with baskets of flowers or toys for the children. In her dreams Sophia was the beautiful twelve year old girl she had lost all that time ago and Daryl was just how she had met him- tall, dark, handsome and extremely grubby but he had that new found love in his eyes for her. They would hold hands on a wooden deck chair built for two or she would simply stand behind him, wrap her arms around his shoulders and they would watch the sun set as a family.

Often, after those dreams, she would awake in the uncomfortable one-man caravan in which she, Daryl and Merle were temporarily and claustrophobically living, and she would sob until she woke one of them up. The pain of suddenly being wrenched back into reality was hard. She had to deal every day with the fact Sophia would never play at their feet with her half-brother, they would never be able to spend time watching the sun set and they would never really be safe as a family. Every time Merle became frightened and began to cry, it could bring Walkers down on them, she feared for their lives whenever Daryl insisted on taking his son into the woods to hunt with him and she lived in constant dread for her own safety and for the two boys she would die inside without.

Daryl was now beginning to earn the features of an older man, his hairline receding and his face growing more and more creased by the day. The seven or eight years since the outbreak started had not been kind to him. His callous and often cracked hand would rest roughly on her side as they embraced to comfort each other into sleep, meaning even the gentle, tender moments with him were flawed. She would caress the deep scars on his side and look into those yellowing but beautiful brown eyes and believe he was her salvation, her mystic alter of life into which she poured every morsel of her love, but he was also the one thing that made her weak, faltering... Powerless to resist those wild charms. Without him she was nothing.

It was a sunny September morning, Carol decided. She hadn't seen a calendar for a number of months, perhaps a year or more, but she expected from the bitterness in the air that she couldn't be far wrong. Dale always emphasized the importance of keeping track of time but until Merle was born and she wished she could track his birthdays she hadn't seen the relevance. She herself must be getting on in years, she noted, she must be approaching her fifties. Somehow Daryl was almost ageless. The yellowing grass had begun to grow too high outside the caravan, so she had made it her mission that morning to pull up some of the foliage while her boys slept in. Thoughts had kept her awake that morning. They had been spooked the night before when they heard loud banging sounds from outside but it turned out to be a wild dog that had followed the scent of Daryl's latest kill to them. The menu for that evening would be wild dog, she had been told, as her partner had instinctively shot it dead, inspected it for wounds and deemed it suitable to eat.

She had owned a dog once, she remembered. She had bought the young dog to protect her home from an alleged prowler living in the neighborhood and she thought it would be beneficial to Sophia to learn about animals and pets. It was a German Shepherd called Ruff, named by her then very young daughter of course. Ed had beaten it to death one night when he came home drunk, enraged and violent and she had locked him outside. Ruff had been chained up outside and took his master's wrath; a blow which knocked its teeth out then a blow that left the poor animal bleeding from the brain, spilling blood onto their cobblestone-effect pavement. Ed fell asleep in that blood and buried the evidence of his slaughter the next morning, claiming the dog had run away in the night. Carol had seen the whole thing from her first story window.

This dog wasn't a German Shepherd, it was a horribly inbred mutt that was nothing more to her partner than an easy meal. She almost wished he had saved it, maybe kicked the beast and let it run away- she remembered a time when she would've been horrified to see the slaughter of such an animal, but falling in love with a poacher had essentially driven that from her. She had to admit, it would be offputting cutting the thing up to serve later though.

She poked her head in through the door after spending a good half hour ragging weeds from the ground with all her strength. The steps up to the door were visible now and if any other animals or worse wanted to creep around their caravan they would make great crashing noises knocking over the tin cans under their tin box of a home. A great improvement. She slowly walked over to Merle whose tiny, grubby five-year-old frame was wrapped in a cloth sheet and one of Carol's old denim dresses to keep him warm. Once a few years ago when Daryl had gone out hunting he had stumbled across an upturned porshe, its victims missing, and he had found a luminescent pink suitcase in its back seat. He brought it back for Carol and the clothes screwed up within had fit her tiny frame perfectly. Each item was more beautiful than the next- Gucci shirts, Armani pants and a side order of tough, durable work clothes each with a fine bottle of perfume or shampoo or some other luxury wrapped in the sleeve or cuff. She assumed whoever had left this suitcase was a rich industrial woman or some spoilt laborer who no doubt wouldn't need these delicacies any more. Changing out of her dresses and into sweats, jeans, jumpers and even fine clothes marked the end of the oppressive reign of Ed's dresses ('you look better in dresses darlin', why don' you get out of them jeans and put som'n on to please your husband?') and the introduction of Daryl's new, liberated survivalist Carol ('ya need somethin' that keeps ya'll from the cold woman. Get outa' that crap and in'a something that'll keep ya safe.'). She had cut each dress up in turn, bar her one favorite, and she had fashioned them into all sorts of things- pillows, blankets, cloths, hoods even a linen hat for Merle to keep the sun off his tiny head.

The one thing she had retained from her old life with Ed was the one dress he only allowed her to wear in the house. She admitted it was a dress that tied in to a history of violence and sexual harassment by her husband, but she also could tell Daryl loved it. The neckline was deep, scooping into what little cleavage she had and revealing the lace hem of the bra she wore only on 'special occasions'. The waist was tight, cinched and flattered her small child-like figure by sucking on her stomach and pouting at her hips. The dress stuck out at a sort of awkward angle when it reached her motherly hips but then tucked itself back in, kissing her thigh and clinging to her slender legs. When she had first worn it in front of her partner they had just left Rick's group and were setting out a new home in a run down old mill. She had padded out like a lynx onto the grass outside the front door where Daryl was chopping firewood and as soon as their eyes met his jaw fell to his knees. Their relationship had been new then, and he had never had a real chance to admire her body without the annoying rags of clothes Ed had made her wear.

He had snaked one rough hand around her waist and yanked her to him as though he couldn't resist the warmth of her body on his any longer. He had taken one hand and run it down the side of her waist, then her hip and he slowly made his way down to her thigh. His eyes spoke volumes- the fire within them told her she had done good, he liked this feisty new Carol and he wanted to see more of it. Much more. She led him inside giggling.

She had never been happier or more in love.


	2. Chapter One: Ashes To Ashes

**Note: Hi readers! **

**Okay so, I've been watching Series 1 (AGAIN, seriously I have issues I think) and I noticed I messed up. I keep raving about Daryl's beautiful brown eyes. Turns out in most scenes it looks like they're actually beautiful grey-ish blue eyes. The horror! But my version of him (and my baby Merle too) has brown eyes. Okay that's all. I just thought I'd right my wrongs. :P**

**Oh by the way, thanks so much for the fantastic reviews! I appreciate the feedback, hope Chapter One doesn't disappoint! I banged this out pretty quickly not out of impatience or lack of interest, but because I'm loving writing it! I hope it makes sense, its kind of leading on to something next chapter. Enjoy!  
**

Chapter One: From The Ashes.

_(I was just guessing at numbers and figures,_

_Pulling the puzzles apart. _

_Questions of science, science and progress,_

_Do not speak as loud as my heart)_

_Merle dragged a hand over his brow and felt the sweat drip slowly down the length of his hand and onto his grubby arm. He blew out a breath of hot air and righted himself, steadying his shotgun and lining up the shot again. It was a fight for survival, a mission; not for his father, his stupid country or his flag. But for his half starved little brother. A shot rang through the trees and echoed in every branch around him. He watched the deer fall limp and collapse, its majestic frame crumbling into the ground. He burst out laughing triumphantly and he called out 'hooeee!' smugly to his counterpart, who sprang from a tree nearby._

_Neither of the boys were older than fifteen. There were maybe five or six years between them, nobody bothered to count, but they could have passed for the same age, Merle with his juvenile features and Daryl with that constantly tired, worn face. It was plain to see that the two were neglected, both wore scruffy hand-me-down overalls and neither seemed to have bathed for a number of weeks. Aside from that, had the young Daryl lifted his shirt anyone would have seen the protruding ribs, bruises and scars that blotted his body. _

_Merle jogged ahead, the gun tossed over his shoulder and he admired the beautiful buck now bleeding silently on the leafy ground. He burst out laughing, driving a few birds from the nearby trees. _

_"Now that, lil' brother, is how we do it!"_

_Daryl's eyes were full of wondrous adoration for his brother, though he tried to mask it behind a protective veil of hard-ass attitude. He knelt down next to Merle who was admiring the antlers on the animal and he put one hand on the deer's girth to feel the meat he would later enjoy; sustenance for the first time in days. They had been tracking it for miles through rocky terrain and forest and he was finally to reap the benefits of their hard work. Deep down he prayed someone would pass through and find them both carving up a wild animal and lock them up, give them some time in 'Juvi' for animal abuse or some shit. At least there they would have food, shelter and security._

_Nobody came to their 'rescue' though. Nobody ever did. When the boys returned from their hunt they found their father Frank blind drunk in a rage and after some punches were thrown between him and Merle they quickly retreated to the safety of their garage, a mostly empty hidey-hole devoid of cars. Their self-proclaimed 'waste-of-space' alcoholic father 'never owned a car in his damn life and couldn't read a word on the dashboard even if he did drag his sorry ass out of bed and have a go'. All there was in there was their father's banged up old motorbike, for which he had no license, and his crossbow. Sometimes the homeless made a nest in there overnight and out of camaraderie the boys would share their kill of the day with them. They had eaten in the woods over a campfire that night, and there were no 'bums' in there anyway, so they simply took to talking and teasing one another until they curled up in a dry spot and slept._

_It wasn't more than a few weeks before Daryl was fending for himself again. When his brother left for a stint in jail, the good times only came when his father left for a few days on some stint with a local woman. He had free reign of a house, his father's comfy bed and the garage, in which he taught himself to shoot. It was that or starvation; there seemed only one option. _

_The apocalypse of course came many years later. He called it 'the shit hitting the fan' and dubbed it the end of mankind. All mankind except him and his brother could go to hell anyway as far as he was concerned. He never checked if his father lived or died, never found it necessary. As soon as the dead started walking, he liberated their garage of the motorbike, crossbow and any spare tins of food and he hauled ass to the county jail where he knew Merle would be, alive. When he got there his brother was stood on the roof nailing the creeps dead in the head from a mile away, hollering with joy at every perfect headshot and chugging whiskey straight from the bottle. The two of them cleared off straight away, made a pact to head to Atlanta to find someone to be a burden to, and they rode off into the sunset together, a perfect pair of no-good white-trash hillbillies._

Carol watched with adoration as Daryl scooped Merle up into his arms to rouse him from sleep. Today, he announced proudly, they would make dinner over a campfire for mommy and she could take a well earned rest from all that domestic crap. She covered her mouth in a parody of shock but inside her chest swelled. This was the kind of family moment she lived for.

Not a day passed when she didn't think of Sophia. Not an hour of the day. She was ashamed that she never took Sophia's school photos from their tent at the Quarry camp, but she couldn't bare to rummage through their sullied, bloodied belongings to find the photo albums. She had tried, but had been forced to pull away weeping when she noticed some of Ed's chewed face strewn across her side of their pillow. It had been so long since she saw a picture of Sophia that she struggled to remember what the young girl had looked like alive. Somehow she remembered the face of that vile creature creeping out of the barn, though it was barely reminiscent of her daughter. She remembered the way 'Sophia' had looked at her, her own mother, with that hunger in her eyes. She had picked her way through the bodies towards her, as though she were on an individual mission to reach her mother, though Carol knew what would come had she gotten close enough.

Daryl didn't speak of the day they discovered her. To Carol that meant either he wanted her to forget Sophia and look to the future or he didn't want her to be upset and loose herself again. In fact, it hurt him to remember that moment at the barn. He had folded himself around Carol then, wrapping his arms around her waist and clinging to her body as her old world crashed and burned around her. He held her so firmly it was as though he expected she would fall from his grasp, ascend to the heavens with her daughter and leave him alone again. The sky could have fallen in on them, the walkers could have come crashing through the fences but he cared so deeply in that moment for her that they wouldn't have dared to touch her, to take her away from him for fear of his wrath.

The pair looked at each other across the van, sharing a goofy smile.

"Damn, your daddy's cooking. Expect those dog steaks to be nice and undercooked honey, he only does two levels of cooking; half-raw or burnt to a crisp." Merle giggled and looked up at his dad with wide eyes, expecting some kind of comeback. Instead Daryl shrugged and looked down at the tiny face.

"Well I can't say she's wrong there son."

The trio giggled together, Merle's little stomach puffing and chuffing with laughter.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. There, in the line of the trees, a group of Walkers all headed towards their camp. Carol's face was one of utter panic. Merle screamed loudly into his mother's chest as she picked him up and kicked over her bowl of dogmeat on the way. She began to weep, clutching her baby with all her might. It was worse now.

Time had stripped the walkers of what made them human. Their skin had eroded so only their bones and teeth could be seen, snapping and lumbering from beneath walls of bleeding pustulant flesh. Brains hung out through cracked skull like balls of melted dough, slopping across their faces like some low budget horror movie, and most of them had removed their clothing long ago or it had rotted away. Layers of mould and rot lay across the surface of the Walker's skin, their hair was almost completely gone and their eyes were either completely white or had decomposed. Carol looked at them like they were some demons sent to end the little family's happiness. This she would not allow.

With all her strength, she hauled herself to the bike, Merle cradled in her arms weeping loudly. Daryl popped a few rounds from his handgun but gave it up shortly after, throwing himself into the drivers seat of the bike and streaking off away from the woods and out of the trailer park.

To his surprise, he could faintly hear Carol howling at the Walkers from behind him. He had expected her to cry, maybe bury her head into his shoulders and wait for everything to clear up. Instead she hugged Merle close and yelled angrily into the wind, the air brushing over her mostly bare head and blowing down the back of her nightgown. That would be his first concern, he realized. They had no clothes, only what they had been preparing to sleep in. Daryl was stripped to the waist with only a short pair of jeans, Carol was pretty much exposed to the elements and Merle's sleep suit was not enough to keep him from shivering on the back of the bike, even with his mother's arms around him.

They were screwed. If they hadn't been screwed before, they certainly were now. His mind fizzled. How could he protect them? He threw the bike forward into whatever was it's fastest speed and he ploughed on ahead. He didn't stop until they were well clear of the camp, at which point he stopped, jumped off the bike and began storming around.

"Daryl?" came a squeaky voice from the back seat. "I'm... Cold." Carol had wrapped herself around Merle but her body heat could not keep both of them warm. Her son was asleep, moderately warm but worn out from his panic attack, but she shuddered uncontrollably and could barely open her eyes for half-frozen tears. She spluttered a few sounds out but failed to make any coherent sentences, so instead opted to hold her arms out to him, shaking with cold. He threw himself onto the bike and wrapped his arms around her, sandwiching his son between them and sheltering her from the cold September night air.

Their caravan was far behind them. By now the Walkers had flipped it door-side-down and eaten the roasted dog straight off the fire. Some of them had caught fire and were stumbling around, careless and oblivious to the flames raging through their bodies. Their things were gone, their food all stripped away and their shelter destroyed. There was only one place Daryl could think of to get the family away from their predicament.

They had left Rick's group when they got to the prison. Going back there, they could find shelter, food, company and at the very least warmth. If it was abandoned, the old group gone then at least they could hunker down and maybe find some scavenged supplies in their absence. He also felt it would open up old wounds for Carol. He remembered the night he betrayed her and it stung in his eyes to think she could be brought back to that, have to relive that night. He wished he had never met Michonne. But he couldn't re-write history and he had to think; was it more important that he didn't upset Carol or that he ensured their safety?

He had the bump to think about too. Carol's little distended belly heaving beneath her night gown which she hadn't noticed but he of course had. It had been a miracle, a blessing before, a potential new life to share with Merle. He had even thought of names, been growing excited for it's arrival. Or at least for Carol to realize and share that joy with him. She didn't seem to see that bump, that hump that had sprung up rapidly from nowhere. He learnt from last time how to recognize the signs. This time it would be different. They would do it together. But first things first. Time to revisit the prison.


	3. Chapter Two: War Wounds

**Note;  
Hello readers!**

**SO, heres the next bit. I've been stuck in the house all day unable to drive anywhere due to torrentially crap British weather flooding my driveway and house so much that I literally had to wear fishing waders to go to the shop down the road, so I figure what I'll do is write a couple of chapters to stick up tonight when my mostly USA-based readership will be online. Because readers are what keep me sane. 3**

**ENJOY! If you enjoy it, review! If you don't enjoy it, review and let me know why! :) Thankyou!**

_Chapter Two; War Wounds_

_(Its all a game, avoiding failure when true colours will bleed  
All in the name of misbehaviour and the things we don't need.  
I lust for after no disaster can touch, touch us any more  
And more than ever I hope to never fall where enough is not the same it was before)_

He struck her, slapping her down like he had so many times before. Sophia uttered a sob from her hidden spot beneath the desk and she breathed the name of Jesus into her hands, begging him to forgive her father for his abuse and Carol for whatever she had done wrong to deserve this. She watched her mother fall before her, smacking her knees, elbows and head in turn on the solid tile floor of the study with sickening cracks and thuds.

_Once she was laid flat out at Ed's feet, Carol turned to look at her daughter and she pulled the usual face that meant 'don't be afraid', though the blood pouring from her nose made Sophia whimper even more and begin to shudder. Ed knew his daughter was there, tucked away hiding from his blows. He thought it would do her good to see how women were treated when they misbehaved, how she herself could be expected to be treated when she grew up a bit and didn't bruise so easily. A boot collided with Carol's cheek and she spluttered out a mouth full of blood, her face streaked with those same tears as always._

_"If I ever catch you showin' your bruises to that snooty friend of yours again we'll be rearranging your face like a jigsaw when I'm done with ya, how'd ya like that honey?" Ed spat, kicking her in the ribs with force and making her reel back with agony. This was the worst attack Sophia had seen him inflict on her mother for a long while, she usually knew how to slow his anger down enough to see sense. The whole incident had flared up when her mother had been invited to try on some old clothes that Marian, their neighbor, had been throwing out. Carol took it as an opportunity to get new outfits without Ed being able to punish her for spending his money, so she readily agreed. After all, the people on their street had started to notice how all of her clothes were like rags or tents around her tiny, almost malnourished frame._

Carol had been in Marian's bedroom undressing to switch shirts when her friend had stumbled in by accident and took to observing her from the corner of the room. That was when she was first made aware of what happened at the Peletier household. Carol's ribs stuck out a mile and one was severely bruised, which could have passed as an accident were it not for her other corresponding markings. Her back was covered in what she could only imagine were scars from some sort of lashings, perhaps with a belt or steel rod... she could only imagine. Her arms bore small circular purple marks from where Ed had grabbed a hold of her and dragged her around roughly, bruising her with his finger tips. To top it all off a couple of tiny black spots showed the places were he had put out his ciggarettes on her bare skin.

_Yet there she stood, shy but as content as a wife could be with her angel of a daughter sat nearby judging each shirt with a giggle, making her mother stride up and down like it was a catwalk. The scene was disturbing to Marian who couldn't fathom how a woman could take so much pain yet still remain as loving and trusting as Carol did. Yes, she was quiet and didn't socialise much but she would still do anyone a favor and babysit anyone in the neighborhood's children just out of kindness. A tear of pity ran down the nosy neighbor's cheeks and she quickly turned and marched down the stairs into the arms of her own, loving husband. She babbled the whole situation out to him and he too was astounded. He and Ed had gone out fishing together, been bowling with his friends and he seemed a great man. He shuddered to think what happened behind closed doors._

_It wasn't until a few weeks later when Marian worked up the courage to confront Ed about Carol's wounds that he even knew she had seen them. Of course rather than take the advice she gave him about seeing an anger management councillor or a doctor he barged into the house and interupted his wife and daughter's reading session by thumping Carol straight in the nose, causing Sophia to flee under the desk and an onslaught of abuse both physical and emotional to stream from her father._

"So, do ya wanna explain what you were doing there? Only that posh bitch just told me you an' the girl were over at hers. I don't remember either of you asking permission to do tha'." Ed was slowly calming down now, watching his wife bleed pitifully on the floor. "You'd better be willing to make this up to me you know Carol, I'm expecting you to make up for being a stupid bitch. For Sophia's sake too, huh baby girl?" and with that, he stomped away leaving Sophia and her mother to curl up in each other's arms weeping together and whispering stunted strings of prayers and passages from the bible to each other. Carol cooed gently in Sophia's ear, though she had to take time now and then to wipe a fresh stream of blood away from her face.

_'Z-Day' didn't come soon enough for Carol. It gave Ed something else to vent his anger out on. He jogged slowly through the streets of their home town weilding a carving knife, slicing through the skulls and scrambling the brains of any creep that came close enough. Behind him his wife and daughter cowered together, bundling themselves into the family car with what few supplies they had been able to recover before their evacuation. Ed had essentially told them they were going to up sticks and go to some refugee centre in Atlanta where they wouldn't be his 'problem' any more. She hoped it would be a fresh start and indeed as they travelled through the infestation the beatings became less of a regular occurance. By the time they met Lorrie and Shane in the on the road, she had even been given freedom enough to talk to strangers, a luxury she seldom enjoyed at home and she revelled in watching Carl and Sophia play together between the cars, some light relief for them. Perhaps it was that Ed was afraid, perhaps he simply didn't want to make enemies in a world slowly emptying of potential allies._

_The first time Carol met Daryl they had already made camp with Lorrie, Shane, Dale, Amy, Andrea and Jim at the Quarry and other survivors were slowly trickling in. The Dixon brothers had trumpeted in on possibly the loudest motorbike Carol ever saw, the engine spluttering clouds of smoke as both men rolled around laughing in the seats, likely at someone or something else's expense. Her first impression was that the pair of them were trouble. When they pulled up Merle stepped off the bike and immediately strode forward, looking around at the group with an air of cockiness whilst Daryl hung back on the bike, watching from a distance in the safety of his brother's shadow. After a while the group gathered around them, each poking questions and mumbling to themselves in worry, each person's face equally as concerned and worn out as the next._

_"Damn, what a sorry lookin' bunch of bastards y'all are!" Merle shreiked, slapping his forehead for what he considered comic effect. Only Daryl responded, smirking quietly to himself. "Ya got some food or whut?" was his first question. Nobody said a word, which irritated Merle. "I said, ya'all gonna give us some hosp'tality or we gonna have ta take your shit from ya?" _

_"Merle shut the hell up." Daryl growled, suddenly piping up and eager to stop Merle from ruining their chances of comaraderie with these strangers. He stood up and slung a string of squirrels off his back and at a somewhat disgusted Andrea who happened to be closest to the camp fire, before sitting down on a log stump and introducing the pair. "I'm Daryl, this i'jit is Merle."_

_A timid voice flared up from behind the crowd of observing survivors. Nobody had noticed Carol was even there, she had been pushed behind Ed's back alongside Sophia but now she made her way through the group and over to the fire, her daughter trailing behind her as always._

"I can tend to these squirrels. You catch all these yourselves? Thats impressive." Carol remarked. She didn't dare say more but she smiled at both the men with such a kindness that it made them wary. The group fell back, accepting the newcomers without question; nobody argued with a pair of brothers who turned up out of the blue with enough food for days. Little was said between Carol and Daryl from then on, the fact that she even talked to them upset her husband so she stayed clear of them. Their first real interaction occured over Ed's dead body as she plunged the pickaxe into his skull. In some strange way Daryl found satisfaction in it, watching her split the brains of a man you didn't need to be a genius to see was abusive. He saw her tear into the corpse of her husband with progressively more powerful blows and he smirked. If only the bastard had been alive to watch her take out her anger on him. Pain was etched into Carol's face, but Daryl had to wonder if it was the pain of losing him or the pain that she hadn't liberated herself from him sooner.

It was a while before Carol realised where they were going. She squeezed Daryl gently at first to alert him he needed to stop so they could talk, but when he blatantly refused and ignored her she began thumping his back in anger. The tiny strikes of her fist were noticable but still he ignored her so finally she squeaked in his ear to stop and he slowed to a halt, afraid she would cause an accident.

"Are you crazy?" she snapped as soon as she jumped off the bike, pointing an accusing finger up at the blue signpost beside them that directed them to the prison. "Are you out of your mind? You know what this place means to me... to us." Her eyes were full of venom and he huffed angrilly in responce, snapping straight back at her with just as much spite.

"Gee Carol, what d'you want to do? Ya got a better option or ya just want you and the boy to freeze ta death out here?" He frowned, bearing down on her with his steely gaze. "We know it was safe there. The food, that little river for water, the guns, the beds. Seems pretty fuckin' sweet to me." The two of them exchanged glares and squared up to each other which made Merle nervous so he began to suck his thumb, shivering in the cold air.

"I know why you wanna go back Dixon," Carol spat, her arms waving in the air snobbishly. "What, you wanna see if your little girlfriends still there?" Her accusations riled Daryl up and he began to pace, backing down but still circling her like a lion. "She's prob'ly moved on by now ya know, found some other unnasuming idiot's relationship to mess up."

"Oh shut up ya bitch before I..." He immediately paused, hesistant. She looked at him as her cheeks drained of colour, her own confidence quickly failing. She began to curl up into her shell again and waited for him to finish his sentence. The words failed him, he couldn't bring himself to threaten her. He glanced at Merle who had begun to cry into Carol's chest, afraid and cold. The couple faltered, exhanged hesitant glances, faltered again then he walked up to her and knelt down, staring directly into her eyes, down on her level. It was a while before he spoke again, all around them the wind whipped through the crackling branches of the trees and the squarks of agitated birds echoed around the bare road. His voice was now reduced to a calm but firm tone, she listened and watched, her eyes full of saddness. "Carol. I aint gonna ever hurt you like that again." He promised, sencerity in his eyes. "Tha's ancient history. Nothing's gonna harm you and the boy I swear."

She grabbed his hands and held them tightly in her own, as timid and unassuming as she had been before. He pressed up against her forehead with hs own, connecting himself to her in a spot where he could look at her straight in the eye and analyze them for every fleck of emotion. She knew he found the whole 'emotions' thing quite confusing but she appreciated his concern. She tilted her head and showered his lips in tender kisses.

"I'm afraid of going back." She admitted timidly inbetween calming kisses, which he had begun to return affectionately. He faltered from nuzzling her nose to listen, his face suddenly serious. "I can't go through that again, don't make me do it Daryl." Her voice had reduced to a whisper and it trailed off as she gazed into his affectionate eyes, searching them for an honesty that was blatantly right infront of her. Merle looked up for the first time, confused.

"Mummy, have you been in prison before? Is that why your scared? I bet its not so scary this time, me and dad'll take good care of you." He smiled up with his usual cheeky grin, breaking the tension. Carol covered her mouth and laughed into her palm, Daryl blew air out between his lips and chuckled, patting his boy on the head. Their pleasure faltered though as the boy asked innocently of both his parents, "Is that were you got your scars from?" They exchanged awkward glances before each kissing the boy on the head at the same time.

"Mummy was in a car accident and Daddy was always just clumsy, we've told you that before baby." Carol cooed in her son's ear, though she knew he saw right through the ruse. She lifted a hand subconsciously to stroke Daryl's side where the injuries his father had inflicted lined his skin, and he gingerly rubbed her back where the marks from the lashings still rose in thin white lines along her spine. He snapped out of the tenderness and realized the cuddles and discussions with their child could only keep them warm for so long. Soppy stories don't keep five year olds safe on a late September night.

"We're gonna the prison." Daryl announced sharply and abruptly, to Carol's immense displeasure. "It's no debate any more. Y'all coming with me or not?" he kicked the bike back into life and with a worried tear falling down her face Carol consented to grab her partner around the waist and straddle his back, clinging on to him with Merle squished between them to hold him in place and keep him warm. He took off without any more of a word, hurrying to reach the safety of the prison house and find some warmth for his family. Carol might hate it, she might think he was the worst man who ever lived, but survival was what rang in his head, survival of the woman he cared so much for, his precious son and his new, unborn baby. Together they trailed away, unsure of what new challenges the prison would bring. Carol buried her head into Daryl's shoulders and held him tight. She adored him with every inch of her body, holding on to him with every inch of strength but she couldn't help feeling frightened of that old life. This time would be different, she assured herself. He was a different man now, her man. She had shaped him for the better. This time would be different.


	4. Chapter Three: Flashback

**Note: Hello readers!**

**I actually hated writing some of this so its fairly brief and all set in the past but I packed it with emotion. I listened to 'Hurt' by Johnny Cash for the inspiration, if you listen to it for a bit maybe you'll feel how I feel about this part of my little story. Even the best of relationships can have sour moments. In an apocalypse I imagine those moments get magnitudes worse. I recon the next chapter is gonna be more cheerful than the last two have been. Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully! I hope you don't all think this is going to start being cliche, believe me there's some major plot twists in development here. ;)**

**Thank you so much for your reviews, its part of what makes this fun to write! Enjoy. As always if you enjoy it, review it. If not, let me know whats wrong with it! Ciao!**

* * *

Chapter Three- Flashback.

_(What have I become_  
_My sweetest friend_  
_Everyone I know goes away in the end_  
_And you could have it all,_  
_My empire of dirt_  
_I will let you down,_  
_I will make you hurt)_

_(Five years, nine months and 28 days ago)_

_Lori hadn't lied as Carol had expected. Until now she had refused to believe what she was told about Daryl, she knew he wasn't that kind of man. But there she was, curled up in the fetal position in a darkened corner of the prison's basement, her face devoid of color as she simply watched in silence, her eyes wide and full of pain. For one fleeting moment she wished Daryl Dixon would drop dead in front of her or she could just drop through the floor and into the abyss and escape this new wave of horror. She had bounced down the basement steps seconds ago into Daryl's makeshift meat locker to tell him she was pregnant with their first baby, she had the pregnancy test in her hand and a twinkle in her eye. Then she had seen him... With her._

_There he stood, arse naked with that new-comer Michonne equally bare and bent double before him. She watched, listened, cried as the one thing keeping her soul tied to the Earth dishonored her right there in plain view. He rolled his head back onto his shoulders and she noticed his eyes were closed, his teeth bared and a thin trail of saliva dripped from his lips and ran the length of his thick neck. Daryl didn't notice her laying there, coiled up shuddering on the ground. Thinking of Carol with every thrust was the only way he found pleasure in their intercourse, but she wasn't to know that. This was a one-time thing, he told himself. By the next morning he could be back in Carol's arms and done with Michonne, she had told him she was planning to head out in a few days anyway and take their secret with her. He knew when all was done he would feel guilty, but Carol had been so frigid and snappy with him of late that he felt he had to find acceptance in someone else's hands. That was his reason anyway. He knew from the start that it was bullshit._

_(The needle tears a hole,  
An old familiar sting,  
Try to kill it all away,  
But I remember everything)_

_A part of Carol's sanity tore right then in that moment as she watched them together. She felt the ache in her head and the sudden loss of control of her mind that sent her reeling away, fumbling blindly to her feet in the dark. With one swift flailing movement she turned clockwise on her heel and threw the pregnancy test across the room, shattering it loudly against a wall. Both of the copulating pair before her froze and their eyes snapped open. Daryl pushed his lover aside and span around, quick enough to catch a glimpse of a tiny-framed woman with a shaven head racing up the stairs, her face in her hands._

_"Awh shit! Carol, wait!"_

_Upstairs she charged through the prison, stumbling, a maddened look in her red eyes. She half expected someone to stop her as she reached the doors, but no-one was bothered. Nobody cared about weak, crazy, bereaved Carol. She taunted herself, her mind filling with sick thoughts; she should have left the group and sacrificed herself to the Walkers weeks ago, she should have fed herself to her dead zombie daughter, she couldn't forget about her lost family, if she had Daryl would have loved her, wouldn't he? She was there to be used abused and cast aside like an old rag, nothing had changed since Ed had died. Same story, different heartache. She didn't bother to return to her room and dress, she simply left her 'house-keeping' linen sundress on and stormed out into the cold. Her hands shook as she slipped open the great wooden door and tossed herself outside, heading straight for the parking lot where Daryl's pickup truck groaned in the rough winds to itself. She knew the drivers side door was unlocked for easy access so she slid in, found the key in the glove box and slowly reversed her way out onto the open road, idly turning one Walker into pavement mush on the way. Daryl was supposed to be there, stopping her from leaving but he was nowhere to be seen. Why wasn't he there begging her to come back, perhaps feebly trying to explain what had happened, maybe chasing the car as she edged away? No doubt he hadn't quite 'wrapped up business' with Michonne yet, she said to herself, her inner voice sarcastic and cruel. She laughed out loud and slammed her foot on the accelerator, pulling away from their temporary home and out into the darkness alone._

_The more her foot found the gas pedal, the more she swerved on the road. It had been a long time since she had last driven and she hardly noticed how fast she was traveling. She wanted to go home, but she didn't know where home was. Subconsciously she had set off on the path that would lead her back to Hershel's farm to be with Sophia but she didn't realize that. All she could think of was Ed, how through every beating she had always reminded herself that he must see some good in her, feel some kind of love to have never left her or found a better wife all those years. She thought of Sophia; when her daughter died she thought she could never give her heart to anyone ever again but she had, idiot Carol had fallen in love with Mr. Wrong again. She wanted to tear open her own stomach and pull out the baby, his baby, throw it onto the road and drive back into a time before all the suffering. Back to the Quarry camp. So she could stay in the tent on the night the camp was attacked and die violently next to Ed. In the dirt with her abusive white trash husband, where she belonged._

_(You could have it all  
My empire of dirt  
I will let you down  
I will make you hurt)_

_It felt as though a pair of hands had reached into her cranium and grabbed a hold of her brain and they were tugging and twisting lumps of the grey matter away. Her ears rang and her eyes stung with every drip of sweat that rolled off her brow into them. The pain was so intense, so magnificent that she surrendered herself to it, allowing herself to slide into a deep madness which engulfed her and drove her senses over the edge. She could still smell Daryl's musky scent in the truck, taste the sweat, remember the times they had held onto each other in the back seat and driven each other to sweet relief. She had never seen him do what she had just seen, he had never done it like that with her before. Always when they had 'made love' he had seemed so tender and unsure with her, as though she were made of a thin sheet of glass and could smash at any moment under his weight. He had run the backs of his hand down the length of her skin with a look of ecstasy, as though her body was made of gold; like every curve, dimple and blemish was a brand new treasure specially made for him to unlock. She had been so sure then that she was his one and only and she had blossomed into a whole new person full of confidence and happiness. How could she not have seen those sly glances at Michonne, their hurried whispers whenever they thought she wasn't there. 'Meet me in the basement tonight, Michonne' came the imaginary voice in the back of her head, as snide as ever, 'I'll show you how the Dixon brothers do it.' Carol closed her eyes for a split second and felt momentarily as though she was about to calm down and escape the anger, like her mind was about to clear._

_That was when she blacked out. The panic attack had come so quickly that she hadn't even felt herself start to hold her breath and starve herself of oxygen. Her foot slid off the accelerator, tapping at the break just as her consciousness faded but not before she had gained enough speed for the vehicle to swerve out of control. Her tiny undeveloped baby jostled around in her stomach and it felt the painful bangs and bumps as the car met some kind of debris on the road and it flipped and crashed into an accompanying ditch. All fell still. Carol didn't wake up, the baby abruptly stopped moving inside her and the car steamed quietly to itself in the wind. She was miles away from the Prison and Daryl hadn't even finished frantically searching the immense number of rooms for her yet, screaming her name into the dark, echoing halls. He wouldn't find his vehicle gone for another hour. Rick wouldn't find the crashed wreck of the truck until the next morning as they searched for her. By then her newly crushed rib had formed massive black bruises on her abdomen, her shoulder had been dislocated and it was a race against time to save her and her baby._

_Nobody in the group ever looked at Daryl the same way again. He was given the cold shoulder by everyone, they all knew he had essentially killed what was left of Carol's spirit in favor of one night of romping with a stranger. He admitted there was nobody else to blame but himself, though he didn't appreciate Lori's spying on him. That wasn't like him, they had all thought, but he had done it. Michonne was thought no differently of, she hadn't known much of Daryl and Carol's prior commitments to each other, after all she had only rolled into camp a day or two ago. The now humbled Daryl Dixon sat by Carol's half dead body day and night until she began to regain consciousness. It was a mental breakdown, Hershel had told everyone. A mental relapse brought on by extreme emotional turmoil from which she could take days, months or years to recover. It wasn't before time either, he speculated, she had lost the few things that mattered to her recently and she hadn't had any time to grieve, it was no wonder she hadn't been able to cope. He took that opportunity to purse his lips tightly and throw daggers at Daryl with his glare._

_"She had just started to find happiness again and all of a sudden it was taken away from her. She's suffered more than enough."_

_It was just under a week before she awoke fully. She had been given a bed in the prison's cramped medical ward where the walls were steely grey and the windows were barred. If she hadn't just had a nervous breakdown perhaps she could enjoy that she actually had a bed, and some blankets instead of sleeping on a thin horse-skin rug next to Daryl. Daryl. Where the hell was Daryl? She sat bolt upright and automatically probed the surface of her stomach. Nothing. She was confident she had lost the baby. Maybe that was for the best, she speculated through her rage and regret._

_(If I could start again,  
A million miles away,  
I would keep myself,  
I would find a way)_

_It was a miracle that the baby survived the crash. The first thing Hershel told her when he came to check up on her in the afternoon was that her womb was still in tact, nothing had hurt the child. It was a gift from God, he told her, though she had to disagree, particularly when he told her how he had informed Daryl that she was pregnant and it had shook him up totally. Evidently he had been discussing 'the bump' with Daryl while evaluating her condition to him and his face had been totally blank so he took it upon himself to ask- 'you did know about the child, right?' He had rampaged and stormed out of the prison to go 'hunting' which essentially meant he needed to be alone for a while, which brought fresh tears and anger to Carol's face._

_One by one each of the other members of the group visited her; Andrea brought food and sat beside her, filling her in on things she had missed during her 'absence', Rick told her about the crash, how he had seen the smoke from the wreckage miles away and it was amazing she had survived it, Lori talked to her about pregnancy... One by one everyone, even Michonne who came to tell her how very sorry she was, filed in and left. Except him._

_It took another week for Daryl to sort out his feelings, by which time Carol was up and walking again, slowly regaining use of her legs and feeling more and more positive about the baby. He stood outside the prison walls with an unusually pitiful amount of game slung across his back, looking up at the barren stone like it was the reason for his pain and conflict. How the hell was he supposed to know she was going to attempt a stunt like that? How was he to know that she was carrying an unborn child? Did it matter now, could she ever forgive him? How the hell were they going to raise a baby in this world, it wasn't like he could take her to the hospital to get her medicines when she needed them. What would happen when she gave birth? Would he be the one to deliver it, or would Hershel have to do it, the guy who birthed cattle his whole life? He shook his head at his own pathetic attitude and swallowed deeply, aware he was about to either make or break something he hadn't realized the importance of until now. He loved Carol, it had taken a shock to the system for him to realize how important it was that he made amends with her. He took one deep breath and headed to the doors, about to face destiny._


	5. Chapter Four: The Only Exception

**Note: Hello readers!**

**I take inspiration for this Chapter from 'The Scientist' by Cold Play which I think suits this pairing so much (seriously, go listen or find out the lyrics and you'll know what I mean). I was intending on sticking to my rule of not posting on a weekend but after a chaotic evening out yesterday I felt like relaxing with a bit of fic to keep me happy. If this chapter seems a bit awkwardly written I'm sorry. (I know she's fictional but) Carol has such inner strength/beauty and a way of thinking that's hard to explain and I just found it hard to do her justice. :) Just so you know, the end of this chapter is a teeny tiny bit teen-style raunchy, but I don't think it merits me rating it M so its staying. :D**

**Anyway, as always, if you enjoy it review it! If not then let me know why! Enjoy!**

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_Chapter Four- The Only Exception_

_(I know now just quite how_  
_My life and love might still go on_  
_In your heart, in your mind_  
_I'll stay with you for all of time)_

_He had been babbling on for some time, trying to explain himself. Like a child, Carol noticed, he constantly tossed around the blame trying to make things clearer to her; sometimes saying there was nobody to blame but himself, sometimes blaming Michonne, sometimes even blaming her. What, did he think she was stupid? It was crystal clear already what had happened, and why. But she played along still, acting the fool while he rambled on. She figured he was waiting for her to say something. Perhaps to start screaming and shouting, but she knew that wasn't how she had to approach this._

_"Daryl." She finally spoke up, commanding attention for the first time since he had walked in. He instantly shut his mouth and watched her, eyes wide and attentive. The sweat forming on his brow gave him an almost manic appearance and that brought Carol wonder just how much this was weighing on his mind. She relished the thought. "I don't want to know about that stuff. I know whose to blame and I think you do too." Her voice was calm, cold and chilling. He shuddered a little and flinched when she moved in her seat._

_"Well. The baby. I didn't know..."_

_"No, its not about the baby either." She snapped, casually placing one hand on her stomach and sighing deeply, patronizing. "I don't care that you didn't know. It wouldn't have made any difference anyway, it was me you did it to, not the baby." His lips tightened and he smacked them, his eyes darker now. "Just, explain to me Daryl. What was going through your head?"_

_He was shocked by her lack of response. She was exhausted, had just attempted some kind of suicide and was emotionally drained, yet he expected something more to come from her lips. He was taken back by her fluidity, she seemed so calm. He was used to angry people screaming, beating each other up... When he had walked in he had expected a flying ball of rage and a fully blown argument but she was quiet, calculating. Perhaps she knew she had the upper hand. In truth she couldn't stop trembling with anger and pain but she held the hurt inside, she needed to figure out where they stood._

_"Carol, you gotta know that noth'n were goin' through my head. I was thinkin' with my..." He paused and looked at her, she nodded. "I don' do this 'emotions' thing well," he continued, the first viable thing that he had said so far. "I was scared, everythin' happenin' so fast the way it did..." He tilted his head up and laced the fingers of each hand into each other as though praying. The silence of the room was invasive, obtrusive and constant like a scream. It rang in his ears and he wished she would say something to shatter it._

_"I saw you." Carol muttered, slightly quieter now. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and bit the inside of her cheek. The sight seemed to be burnt into the inside of her eyelids, that scene she had opened the door onto. "Was she better than me?" He lifted his hand gently to her face but she slapped it away, retreating to her shell._

_"Carol, wha' the hell ya care about that for? Ya know tha's crap." His tone was commanding but there was a hesitation which she hadn't heard before. "There's nothin' I can say that'll make this any better is there?" He slumped onto the chair beside her, his head in his hands. After a short while he glanced up at her with those smoldering dark eyes and her head sunk into her shoulders. "O'course that's ya first question..." He trailed off, biting his lip. "Ya mad, I ain't gonna deny I fucked this up for us didn' I." He rubbed his eyes and nose with the back of his hand, turning his head away._

_"Daryl." She said finally, causing him to jump out of his train of thought and return his attention to her. "I'm not mad." The statement made him wary, his hands suddenly trembling. "I'm disappointed, but not mad. I've seen this happen before you know. Ed was a good man when I met him, but he did something cruel to me too." Daryl opened his mouth to bark a response but she silenced him with her hand. "Just shut up and listen to me!" She snapped, so he fell still again. "You know, the first time he hit me, I thought I would die of anger, I felt like running away and hiding myself from him forever... But I stayed and gave him another chance and I don't regret doing that, because I loved him. Its hard to explain, that. He hit me again, and the same thing came about; I thought about leaving but I decided to give him a third chance, I was led to believe he was different. It happened again. By that time, I could hardly just up sticks with a baby daughter so I got trapped in the cycle. Eventually it became regular, he knew he could get away with it so it became second nature to him. Men like him enjoy that power."_

_Daryl was confused, she could tell. She took a moment to breathe then leant into him, her face mere inches away from his. He recoiled, as though he expected her to headbutt him or something, but she held herself there and he patiently waited for her to speak again._

_"Let me make this abundantly clear Daryl." Her voice was cold again now, her eyes steely and devoid of that Carol-shaped kindness they had always held for him before. "I don't pretend I'm a clever woman. I couldn't convince anyone that I'm strong or brave or independent like Andrea and Michonne. And I know I'm older and less attractive..." Again, she had to silence him by placing a hand over his mouth before he could snap at her. "But what I am is loyal. I will live and die for you Daryl. We are going to make this work; it'll take time but I can't loose you again. But should you ever pull anything like that again and there will be no second chances, baby or no baby."_

_He breathed properly for the first time in hours. He wanted so desperately to dive in and grab her by the back of the neck, plunging himself into a long lusty kiss with her. But the look on her face reminded him it would be a long wait before he had that privilege again. He realized in that moment that she was wrong. He had been so blind. Carol wasn't weak like she thought, she had a strength that no-one else did. Inner strength. The woman had guts. The most powerful and unobtainable kind. She was more impressive a specimen than any of the other women he ever met before and it hurt him in the deepest pit of his chest to think he had nearly thrown that away. There the others were, freaking out because people talked down to them or at war over who-likes-who, and then there she was in her own league. Battling with a history of abuse, the loss of her daughter and now an idiot who couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to see what he already had._

_He had been so awful to her and he didn't even know why. Michonne had walked up to him that night wielding two bottles of whiskey, one each, and she started complaining to him that she was lonely, nobody understood her just like nobody understood him. He related to that and despite her being a newcomer he quickly warmed to her. They talked for a long time about their mutual love of crossbows, beer, all the things they missed and he found himself enraptured by her fiery attitude and comely ebony skin... Michonne had asked if he missed the touch of a woman. He didn't even know why but he said yes. Some foolish flirting followed and before he knew it there she was, stripped to her waist and begging him to just hold her for one night. At first he had said no, explaining he had 'different interests.'_

_"What, you gay?" She had chuckled, taking deep pleasure in seeing him bristle instinctively at her comment. "Or is it you just can't handle black girls?" She wrapped both arms around his waist and gazed into his eyes, pressing her bare chest against the thin fabric of his shirt. That was the point he should have walked away. But something kept him there, held him in her gaze for far too long. Like a man hypnotized he had found her lips with his, begun biting his way down her neck and whispered, "One night."_

_Sat on the bench across from Carol telling her the story of how he had fallen into Michonne's arms he wished she would leave. She deserved better than him, for once he wished she would take off and leave to go find something worth living for. She claimed she would 'live and die' for him, but he wished there was some way he could drive her off and show her that he wasn't right for her. He didn't deserve her. If there was no getting rid of her when he cheated how was he to drive her away any other way, he asked himself. There was no fury in her eyes, no passion either but there she was, as insanely loyal as ever just like she had been to Ed._

_"You know." He said, licking at his dry lips, "I don' think of ya any less than them other girls. Your strong, smart and... I'm an idiot." She blew air between her lips and rolled her eyes, evidently in disbelief._

_"You don' mean that." She remarked, shaking her head and smirking._

_"Carol," he put one hand on her cheek and this time she let it remain there, though she averted her eyes. "I think ya a real looker, but on the inside too." He hated his voice when he tried to sound profound, he felt like a real idiot sat there trying to explain the glorious light he had suddenly found in Carol's soul that shined from beyond those barricades she had built to keep herself safe. He couldn't find the words to tell her how sorry he was and how he would never betray her again as long as she breathed. What they had had before was a casual relationship based on her emotional dependence of him, but he wanted more now, he wanted a family built on a solid foundation of love and trust, and to really give her a reason to smile again. He wanted to explain how now he had seen how much he really meant to her he wanted to spend every day of the rest of his life devoting himself to making up for how he had broken her. What came out of his mouth was, "If ya trust me now, I won' ever disappoint you again." He felt ashamed that he couldn't conjure a beautiful rainbow of emotion with his words, but words and honesty and loyalty and love were things he'd never known the value of before. The rising tide of feelings since he found her had swept him away, he realized now that Michonne had been a safety net into which he was caught, with promises of no commitment, no responsibility and no feelings attached._

_"We can make this work." Carol mumbled, quiet and attentive. "The other women keep telling me I should be alone but I don't think I want to be. They're tellin' me your no good and no man is worth the pain but I think you might well be the only exception to that rule..." She clung to his arm and sighed deeply, twisting her body around so she could rest her tired head on his shoulder. He began to stroke her across the brow and felt suddenly, blissfully in love. "Please don't make me regret this."_

* * *

The bike was beginning to splutter and jolt but they were still miles from their destination. They were running on fumes, Carol could see the fuel meter was tapping at the red 'E' like a petulant child. She felt worse by the second, the cold air seeping into her skin, and Daryl too shuddered with the full force of the breeze blasting against his chiseled hunter's torso. She slid off the bike when it finally juddered to a halt. Merle was scooped up into his fathers arms where he proceeded to fall quickly into a troubled sleep. The bike had kicked the bucket in a small gap between the trees lining the road and all around them the forest was deep and dark, perfect camouflage for Walkers but also perfect shelter for a tiny family of three. Quietly they edged their way towards the potential woody shelter before them, the memory of the campsite attack still fresh in their minds.

Daryl's crossbow was poised, his eye peering down the scope as he walked forwards slowly, proceeding with absolute caution. He had passed Merle over to Carol, who had him slung up on her shoulders in a piggy-back style position for ease of movement and who remained a few feet behind her partner. She watched with admiration as he crept towards the trees, listening for any sound imaginable, poised to spring into action and fill something's head with arrows the moment it presented itself as a danger. But they were lucky, not a single creature living or dead tip-toed through the trees towards them, so they decided to wait it out until morning in the shadow of the largest tree they could find. There, they tucked their son into a hollow for warmth and they bunkered down, both wrapped up for warmth in only a half of his sleeveless leather jacket each.

A while later, their son was chuffing in his sleep and the sky had grown lighter as morning approached. Between them they had gathered enough of the rough foliage around them to make a small nest and they held each other tight, sharing body heat. A few times they had kissed, laughed, fooled around but eventually Daryl lifted his head up onto his elbow and stared at her, taking in her features with adoration.

"Ya know, when we first met there were one way we kept each other warm the best. Shall I show ya?" He smirked and she playfully slapped at his hand as she felt it creeping up the inside of her thighs. He turned so they were face-to-face and put both arms around her waist, then picked her up and rolled back so she was flipped into a straddling position, her thighs around his denim clad hips, poised above him. She giggled quietly, not loud enough to wake their son but enough to drive Daryl to playfully attempt to undress her, to which she pretended to object, thrashing around and laughing. He smiled, playing along, enjoying the moment.

"You don't take the slow approach to anything do ya?" she teased, slipping the nightgown off as she spoke. He watched her slowly, painstakingly reveal each inch as he dragged one finger across her exposed skin, admiring the contours of her body. She flipped the dress off and threw it away from them, shivering but loving the attention. Daryl sat up and began to drift around her body with his hands and tongue, bringing waves of pleasure to each piece of skin and causing an onset of gooseflesh that he didn't think had anything to do with the cold night.

"C'mere." He commanded, and flipped himself over on top of her, holding her down on the ground with his weight. He bit into her neck and she threw back her head, her eyes wide with joy. "I love you. Give me one night to prove that." He whispered, before plunging his head down and throwing himself into a passionate kiss with her.

The sun had risen by the time Carol threw her clothes back on. Her face was full of wear and their bout of action had thrown Daryl out of focus, so they took to laying together in the warmth of the dawn, their arms around each other's waists, fighting to stay awake. They gazed into each other's eyes, their own ablaze with the energy of love and life.

"We should head out soon." The gruff male voice came regretfully, pulling them out of their almost comatose state. He sat up and found himself sitting tall above a woman whose love he could not explain. "I'm gonna head out for gas, ya keep an eye on the boy." He saw the sudden flush of fear cross her face so he sat her up to look into his eyes, leveling with her. "I'll leave my handgun. Don' use it if ya can..." His speech drifted away ad after a short while he added, "Be back before ya know it."


	6. Chapter Five: Unlikely Hero

**Note: Hello Readers!**

**Sorry I haven't posted for a few days, hope you can forgive me my darlings but I've had serious writers block and been on the worlds most boring fishing trip, so cut me some slack for being tardy! As such this chapter COULD be a little confusing and is probably badly written compared to my other stuff but hopefully it'll work and I can have a MUCH better chapter out tomorrow or Friday. My brain is like a really really old, broken printer at the moment, like its trying really hard to function properly but its so slow that by the time its done, all the words look like big pointless blobs of ink on a page. :L**

**As always if you enjoy it, review it! If not, let me know why! Hope to get another out before the weekend. :D**

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_Chapter Five: Unlikely Hero_

_(Follow your heart, child of the west wind_

_Follow the voice thats calling you home_

_Follow your dreams but always remember me_

_I am your brother, your brother under the sun)_

It was beautiful to watch them stood there right in their way, their bodies locked together for warmth. The ominous rustling through the trees had sent Carol flying to her knees and flat onto the ground, the handgun in her grasp, turned in the direction of the noise. She pulled Merle under her and into her arms, his body rested between her elbows as she sheltered him from the world. Walkers, Raiders, wild animals, it could have been anything creeping through the woods in their direction and she always expected the worst. It shocked Carol and brought tears to her eyes when they slowly strutted through the trees, one long slender leg after the other.

A stag and a doe tottered forwards and stopped in the wide gap between two trees, their bodies sleek and dappled in the mid-morning sun that filtered through the tree canopies. They turned to each other and the tiny doe began tenderly licking what looked like a bullet wound on the stag's side as the larger of the beasts threw his head back in pain. She persisted, nudging his face gently with her nose to comfort him, her mouth matted with her counterpart's blood. The two animals shared a moment, gazing into each other's eyes as though they knew how beautiful it was that they found each other, just for one moment enjoying that they had everything they could primarily want. The doe licked the stag's ear and he shook his head, nuzzling her tenderly.

In Carol's arms Merle did all he could to stop himself from squealing in excitement. He looked up at his mother who was equally moved by the random appearance amongst the years of darkness of such beautiful signs of life. Sure she was used to birds, squirrels and wild dogs but this was special. She was taken back to a time before the hurt, when such beautiful things like deer strolling through the woods and precious moments with your son did still happen and her belly filled with warmth, as though she had finally knelt down and taken a sip from the warm pool of nostalgia which she had been trying to avoid falling into for some time.

Together mother and son curled up under their tree and watched, their hearts beating correspondingly. Carol began to talk quietly, which didn't seem to upset the animals who had taken to laying in the shade, the stag's body wrapped around the doe's, and she taught Merle the few things she knew about deer. Admittedly she had never been given much of a chance to learn such things, having left school so early, but it had to beat what little knowledge Daryl had imparted to their child; knowledge which extended to such things as which parts of a stag were tasty and which parts were inedible. Which in Daryl's opinion were very few parts. They both lay together for a long while and watched, loving the moment, their warmth as comforting to each other as the warmth of a thick blanket. The couple of deer had chance to get up and begin to walk away slowly together by the time the gunshot rang out and ripped both Carol and Merle right out of their mirage of happiness. In one single piercing shot the bullet sped straight through the doe's skull at which the stag charged away, a low, chillingly mournful noise escaping his mouth, and their precious moment lay in tatters. It had happened so fast that Carol hadn't even seen the doe fall and the smile on Merle's face didn't disappear for a number of seconds, until he realized what had happened.

It reminded her of the time she had been watching the frogs with Merle at the lake beside the trailer park and Daryl had snatched the amphibians out of their reach, crushed their skulls and strolled away like nothing had happened, tossing their scaly bodies onto the campfire. She had been sure it was Daryl making his way towards them now from the other side of the doe's body so she let her guard drop as he advanced. She remembered suddenly how tired she was and her eyelids rose and fell as she sleepily called out to him, trying hard not to startle Merle who had curled up in a defensive, tiny ball with his head resting on her inexplicably sore stomach. Her son was sobbing a little but she didn't comfort him, Daryl wouldn't like that, he thought their boy needed to see these things to harden him for a world in which sobbing and weakness got you killed. With the huge tree behind them providing shelter from the breeze and the heat of the morning sun beating down on them through the emerald crown of the trees it was almost peaceful even despite what had happened. She sat sprawled out on the floor with Daryl's handgun resting on the soft flesh of her thighs, watching what she thought was her partner approach. It was about time too, she thought, smiling to herself and holding out her hand to him.

It wasn't a Walker coming towards her, the guy moved too fast and was carrying a shotgun, though the muzzle which had murdered the deer was now pointed straight at her. She wondered why he approached so warily, pointing the weapon straight at her face and getting progressively slower as he advanced. His facial features were distorted by the shadows but he was Daryl's build, height and weight and in a world running somewhat short on men she automatically assumed it was hers. He called out in a strong Southern accent hardy different to her partner's own drawl and she laughed nervously at the question she was asked.

"He alive?" There was only a slightly difference in pitch to Daryl's usual voice but the tone was different, serious. Beside her Merle turned over so the man couldn't see his face and flapped an arm towards him, mumbling bitterly in his direction, angry about the deer. Carol patted her son on the head and laughed. The Daryl-shaped figure approaching faltered as her son began to move and he suddenly trained his loaded gun on the boy, which sent Carol into a protective rage.

"Daryl what the hell you doin' that for? Don't point that thing at him, he's fine!" She snapped, her brow furrowed. "Are you insane?" She added, her tone vicious. This made the figure stop in alarm. She stood up quickly, jolting Merle out of his restful state. "And where's the gas anyway?" She added, calming slightly as he lowered the gun. "That bike won't run on love you know." Mother and son stood and began to brush themselves down, waiting for the Daryl-shaped figure to come over and explain himself.

"Did you say Daryl?" Was the short, quiet response she was given in return. The voice was somewhat softer now, the shotgun flaccid and dangling at his hip. Something about his unusual manner annoyed Carol.

"Yeah, what you been hit over the head or somethin'?" She growled, unusually angrily. "I said Daryl, Daryl Dixon. That ya name isn' it?" She shut her eyes and clenched her hands into fists. Her stomach had suddenly begun to burn and she felt acid rising in her throat, no time for her partner to begin fooling around. "Come here would ya?" Little Merle spotted the doe's body and began to march angrily towards the figure, his arms out hoping to be scooped up. As he approached he began telling him about how nice it had all been before they were interrupted and how he didn't like watching the deer fall over. He ran forwards but suddenly began to slow down until he came to an immediate stop meters away from the figure, from where he began to back away.

"Mommy. This isn't daddy." He whispered, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. Carol's head snapped up and she stared at the stranger with wild eyes. She sprinted forwards instinctively and grabbed her son by the shoulders. The closer she got to the stranger the more she could make out his features and Merle was right, it wasn't quire Daryl. Though the resemblance was remarkable.

"Who the hell are you?" She barked, her voice wavering with fright. "I... Have you seen..." Her eyes began to squint as her head filled with thoughts, was this stranger sent by Daryl to tell them something, had he found help at the gas station, was he late because there was something wrong with him? Her head fizzed, she never worried about Daryl when he went on his walks and she realized now how foolish she'd been. "Did Daryl send you to find me?" She asked meekly, her eyes welling with tears.

"Nah." The figure had relaxed now and was laughing a little, his crooked teeth drawn into a crooked smile. The closer he strutted to Carol the more she realized how much he looked like Daryl. The difference between them was this man's hair was half-shaved, his eyes more wrinkled and he was obviously older. In one hand he held his gun limply at his waist and on the other arm his hand was completely missing.

"You'll be Carol then?" He sneered, his eyes drawn in tight, the smirk still on his face. "Are you fuckin' kidding me? What, ya like fifty?" It didn't startle Carol, she hardly even noticed the insult. He kept coming, drawing in closer and closer to her, making her uneasy. She shoved Merle behind her defensively but not before the stranger had noticed the tiny boy. He knelt down and began to talk on the boy's level, his voice chillingly wild. "And this is Merle? Scrawny thing jus' like his daddy eh?" He was uncomfortably close now and Carol began to back up, the hairs on her neck raising in alarm.

"How do you know?" Was all she could muster. She grabbed a firm hold of the handgun, Merle peeking out from behind her back. The stranger looked down and waved at the tiny figure.

"I found my fuckin' bike on the main road and knew the little shitrag must be aroun' somewhere. Where the hell's my brother?" Merle Senior growled, still smirking. Carol stopped, her jaw dropped. She had seen his face before, a long time ago. Of course, Merle Dixon the racist, sexist asshole who their group had left to die on a rooftop. He was stood inches away from them, a loaded gun in his hand, reeking of whiskey. Oh shit.

She was completely freaked out when he took a step towards her and he laughed as she knelt down, her hands in the air. She waited for him to do something, wanting to show she was submissive, but nothing happened. She wasn't hit, pistol whipped or forced onto her back, she wasn't even verbally ridiculed. Instead a single hand was placed lightly on her shoulder and she looked up, noticing him looking straight into her eyes. He dropped his gun in front of her and smiled.

"You stupid?" He asked, almost tenderly. "I might be sore that my brother's found himself someone better 'an me to spend his time on but I sure as hell won't hurt ya darlin'. Sorry f I spooked ya. You and that boy's family now. An' us Dixons stick together." She opened her eyes and looked up at him sternly, wondering if he was serious. His face was full of sincerity. "I'm meetin' the other fucks from the prison at the gas station soon, you two comin'?" And with that, Carol relaxed. The fear, hate and regret she had been feeling melted away and she felt safe. He had meant what he said about them being family now, she knew he had meant it. And she was eternally grateful.

Family was important to him, even if his brother did give him up as dead all those years ago. That was apparent. He had survived and as far as she could tell he had no hard feelings, in fact something seemed to have changed him completely into a seemingly more modest man. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt ashamed for judging a book by its cover. Merle Senior scooped Merle Junior up into his arms and poked the youngster on the nose. "You're little Merle then? Fuck me thats a good name you got there buddy. An' my god do you look like your scrawny little daddy." They laughed in unison and the older of the two slung the tiny boy roughly over his shoulder and strode away, Carol tailing behind both confused and blown away by the speed at which things had turned around.

* * *

Daryl pinned himself in a corner high up on a narrow but sturdy shelf alongside bottles of petrol, beer and some kind of gas canisters, the label of which he couldn't read. Below him walkers scrabbled at the bottom shelf, trying to find a way to climb up after him but like a panther he nestled protectively in the shadows, hoping they might loose interest. There could be no less than twenty walkers crammed into the tiny storage room trying to get at him, their skinless faces crumpled into snarls, teeth gnashing as though chewing through the air to reach him. Twenty walkers were there and he had brought just four arrows, his chances looked slim. He didn't even notice the sounds of the truck slipping into the parking lot outside.

"Hey ya little bastards, why don't you fuck off and go after some other bastard for a change." He snarled at the Walkers, his face fearless. A flash image of his partner hiding in the woods with his son and unborn child raged through his head and changed his mind, at least it was him hanging like bait above a room full of walkers, not them. This time anyway. Though how long they would last in those sparse woods without him he didn't know. He yelled out with frustration, fingering the jewelry box in his pocket in which the ring he had intended to give to Carol sat silent and mocking. Why hadn't he been more careful. It was all about to not matter any more. His chewed corpse would occupy the walkers for a while, stopping them from finding the people he loved for a few hours more, but they were helpless without him. Carol was pregnant, the walkers would fall on her stomach and rip out the baby right in front of her. Make her watch as they tossed it aside and ravaged her guts for the more tender, stringy flesh. That would be how she found out about the baby, when she was watching them throw its tiny unformed body aside like a rag doll. His face melted in pain, he would give anything to stop that.

He had smashed the glass of the high windows next to him a little while ago and looked outside, the drop to the floor looked dangerous from up there. Besides which, the few remaining Walkers drifting around the rest of the gas station would be on him in moments especially if he injured himself on the way down or made too much noise. He didn't like his chances any more out there than he did inside. He picked up a shard of broken glass and looked at it, turning it over in his hands. A slash to the wrists and he could bleed out and avoid having himself torn apart, but he remembered Rick telling them that they were all infected- he'd turn into a Walker either way.

He couldn't cope with thinking he would become a threat to Carol and little Merle when he turned. Immediately he imagined it- that he was the monster ripping his unborn child out of Carol's belly whilst she screamed, his dead eyes resting on her frightened face, it could be him driving his terrified son against a wall and tearing into his tiny neck. Perhaps his son would run up to him and try to hug his father, afraid, and before he knew what was happening the corpse would be sinking his teeth into his child's face while Carol was forced to watch in horror. The image caused him to gargle up a little vomit and spit it onto the unsuspecting head of the nearest zombie at the bottom of the shelves, which didn't seem to phase the creature. It just kept coming. Just as he would when he turned. If any part of his human self remained he would remember where Carol and Merle were hiding and he'd keep coming until they were dead with him.

The only way out would be a shot from his crossbow straight into his brain. He shook his head, that was no good, he didn't even know if that would work. How could he throw his life away anyway, it had been so good with Carol lately. He thought about her tiny, trusting body wrapped around him as they rode the bike almost all the way to the prison. It seemed like a distant memory. She had lent right forward and whispered to him that she loved him a few times, reminding him why he was still fighting the good fight in this horrid world. He remembered how she looked the night before, laid below him, her legs wrapped around him and her beautiful face flushed with pleasure. It had driven him wild, he had felt like the luckiest man alive in that moment, she was so perfect and life felt so good. They had risked it once again last night, if she wasn't pregnant she probably would be now. He felt like an idiot for doing it. What life could his family have now anyway, they depended on him and he was about to either opt out or get chewed to death without them even knowing. He had meant to teach Carol to hunt and survive but he enjoyed being depended upon so much that he had avoided it, now she would be lost. Even if she did know how to move on, she was so ridiculously loyal that she wouldn't leave until she knew he was really dead, which would lead her straight into the same trap as he was in. In a rare display of emotion, he began to shriek in frustration again and the tears rolled down his face in anger.

It was then, just as he began to loose himself that his unlikely hero stepped in. At first he thought he was imagining it, the gunshots ringing out from the top of the building opposite to him. The Walkers below him began to turn away, distracted, and drift towards the door. Daryl's face fell into one of complete bemusement, had he passed out into some optimistic dream? He watched the creatures wander away and he slapped himself in the cheek, trying to figure out if it was fantasy or reality. When he opened his eyes and found the room below him empty of all but two of the Walkers, he began to smile, his white teeth clenched into a huge grin. Carol? Jesus? He didn't care, somebody was kicking ass to save him. He popped two shots off his crossbow and sprang down, his smile huge, taking barely moments to pull the arrows from the eye sockets of his targets.

By the time he got outside, Andrea and Rick were comfortably sprawled out on the roof of the adjoining building, sniper rifles stuck to their eyes, the building surrounded by headless corpses. Daryl stood, completely confounded and he stared up at the familiar people shooting the creatures with precise aim from yards away. He began to chuckle but eventually the light giggles grew into hysterical howling as he watched his old friends pull empty bottles of whiskey from beside them and hurl them down straight onto the heads of the creatures, causing explosions of blood, brains and glass shards.

"Hey there guys!" Daryl yelled, barely audible over the growling of the few remaining walkers. He waved up to them and they waved back, tired but genuine smiles on their faces. "You my fuckin' guardian angels or what?"


	7. Chapter Six: Tensions Rising

**Note: Helloooooo Readers!**

**So, I'm back home with mummy and daddy now for a little while, hence why chapters are less regular. I'm intending on making a HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME Chapter on the 26th to celebrate so keep tuned in for that, hopefully its gonna be massive. :P I have very little to say today, except that its 1am and I've been waiting to get this chapter down for a while but I really hope its okay, I'm a little tired from the horrible drive and my brain is in overload but hopefully it wont be too bad.**

**To address one of my reader's reviews I've tried to change the dialect of the characters a little to make them less 'distracting'. Sadly I've never actually even spoken to someone with a Southern American accent since I live in the detached-from-society North of England so I'm trying my best but it was at best an optimistic attempt from the start, hehe. :)**

**As always, if you enjoy it review it! If not, let me know why! Enjoy!**

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_Chapter Six: Tensions Rising_

_(Sun been down for days_

_A winter melody she plays_

_The thunder makes her contemplate_

_She hears a noise behind the gate_

_Perhaps a letter with a dove_

_Perhaps a stranger she could love?)_

_Dylan had been twenty two when she met Frank Dixon in the 'Players' Club in which she stripped for tips. He had been rolling around in his chair laughing with some friends and she had been sent to 'tend' to their table. He wasn't her type- his thick handlebar moustache dripped dregs of whiskey onto his unclean shirt and his hair was thick and uncombed, tousled into a wild mess on the top of his shiny red head. Besides which as she wrapped herself around the pole in the middle of their table she could smell him, the stench of alcohol, vile breath and cheap aftershave wafted from his direction. But she noticed he tipped her big and she liked that. She put in extra effort on the first night and ended up walking away with around a hundred dollars tucked into her g-string from him alone. That certainly caught her attention._

_He came back again and again; every night she saw him hanging around by the bar waiting for her. It was a while until she agreed to go out with him, he offered to take her out and romance her, though she knew even before she agreed that would extend as far as sex in the back of a pickup truck. They spent a number of tolerable weeks together in which he paraded her around like a trophy before he started to become sour and possessive. Her body slowly grew in size as she searched for ways to comfort herself from his hard words, but he repeatedly convinced her to stay with him out of pity or fear of the violent, abusive man he was rapidly becoming._

_The times she tried to leave he would round her up like stray cattle and she would fall back into his arms. That was how her life drew into a dark, clammy but inevitable relationship with a man she didn't love. Ten months after she met him, she was rushed to the local hospital to give him his first son, Merle Dixon._

_The only happiness in her marital life came a few years after the birth of their first child (for whom she had no real love). Frank had captured her and tucked her away like a bird in a cage by then, providing her with all the money she could want from his popular cash-in-hand poaching career but she never really had any freedom to enjoy it so the money drained away as fast as she received it on booze and cheap cigarettes. He was afraid that should she leave the house for long she would become enamored with another man and 'break his heart' so he took to breaking her spirit to keep her submissive. She stayed hidden away in their rotting wooden shack letting Merle run wild and make mischief and spending weeks alone while Frank went on hunting trips. She realized as soon as he was born, their second son, that he was different. He had a light inside him she had never seen in either of the older men before._

_Daryl loved nothing more than when his mother smiled. It was a rare occasion and somehow it made him feel as though he was safe, loved. From an early age he too ran wild with Merle but as if in apology for his brother and father's mistreatment of her he often brought her wild flowers home from his expeditions as if offering her a wave of hope and inspiration. She was his whole world; the one person who loved him with every inch of her heart and soul, Merle loved him but only out of necessity and his father enjoyed tormenting his children at every turn- slapping and yelling at them like he enjoyed it. But always Dylan was there, shining like the sunset. His childhood ended at around six years old- the day his mother was taken from him._

_Frank found her strung up in their run down garage. She had been planning to leave him for a long while, but always he threatened to hunt her down and drag her right back if she ran, saying he would only make the pain worse unless she behaved. She 'opted out' with a rope and a goodbye note for her children, she had never breathed a word to either of the boys beforehand, hoping to shelter them, but their father had forced them into the garage to see her swinging alongside the carcasses of his hunts. To show them how weak she had been._

_"Boys." He had said, not comforting Daryl as he wept uncontrollably into his brother's shoulders. "This is why you should never trust women. They'll break your heart. Stick to your kin, there's no cunny worth abandoning your brother for."_

_Dylan had imparted very little knowledge to her son before she killed herself. Though in that moment he hated her for leaving him unguarded with the whole world against him he would never forget what she told him. She had made him promise to be more rational and sensible than his brother, she had told him to never lay his hands on another human if not in self defense and she had told him to never give up searching for the one woman willing to love him. That was what drove him, kept him out of his brother's sex romps and drug abuse. He focused his life from that moment, at just six years old, on survival and the pursuit of love. He became almost sociopathic but it served him well, kept him out of jail and most of the beds of the local girls._

_He dreamt rarely as he was growing, his imagination died with his mother. He didn't play with other kids except Merle and those games usually involved play fighting or guns, so there was no inspiration for dreaming and pleasure. But when he did dream, he thought of Dylan. She was his muse, his first emotional love. He remembered how she smelled, how warm she was when she held him, how soft her lips were when she kissed his head and cooed him to sleep. He would wake up and wish she could see how much he missed her, how much he hated that she had run away. It broke his heart, kept him from forming bonds with others, and always he hunted for that one woman who would make him forget that pain, who would love him like Dylan had loved everyone before his father had broken her, with that same undying light and love in her soul even in the face of adversity._

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Carol laughed, her face stretched into an uncomfortable smile. She gently lifted one delicate hand to Merle SR's arm and his eyes softened at her touch. Merle JR was clung to his uncle's back as he gave him a bouncy piggyback towards the gas station, and the small boy roared with laughter.

"So wait a minute, your actually telling me Daryl just walks up to you and hurls right down your front?" Carol's face was strained, her laughter loud but forced. She failed to enjoy stories of Daryl before she met him, it was a whole other world and she didn't care. She didn't need to worry about any of the useless information from before, she already struggled to contain all his personality in her head without having to think about before too. She played along though, despite the uncomfortable position which Merle seemed to have mistaken for humor. She didn't like the way he kept glancing at her either, like she was a piece of meat, like he was wondering what part of her body Daryl had first gotten a taste for.

"Yeah," Merle continued, roaring with laughter over his own anecdote, "Daryl just hops up onto the bike next to me 'n' he says to me, brother... I think tha' girl tried killin' me. An' I says to him, baby brother, she's a fuckin' bar wench, you can't handle your alcohol boy!" Carol chuckled, but Merle SR burst into embarrassed giggles, too young to see his mother's discomfort but old enough to recognize material for a joke he could use against his father later. "The next thin' you know is he's chundering all over my shirt!" He howled with laughter, throwing his head up in happiness. The only thing she could do was laugh, she supposed it was better than him trying to kill her like he would've had she not been the mother of his nephew. Merle had the same kind of psychological complex as Daryl; around people they didn't trust they took on the 'hard ass' persona, but beneath it all Carol somehow drew out an inner man simply desperate for some kind of approval. The difference was that Merle took it to another extreme, doing all the crazy things Daryl was too scared or ethical to do.

Merle personally felt lucky, he had found his brother and nephew, and with them a brand new ass to admire. He could see now what Daryl saw in Carol. When he had met her she had seemed to be a tiny, shivering wreck but he saw it clearer now- she was sweet, caring, attractive and he felt his whole bad attitude melting away as she talked. Besides which she had a body to die for, inebriated but still curvy just how Merle liked them.

As the small group finally reached the gas station, he was sad to watch Carol jog away and charge up to Daryl, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately with a sigh of relief dancing on her tongue. He watched as she ran a hand gently down the length of his spine and eventually grasped seductively at the waistband of his jeans, pulling him firmly towards her as though they were reuniting after years of separation. They embraced and smiled at each other, their love was blatantly, in-your-face obvious. A twinge of jealousy raged through Merle and he gently dropped his nephew to the ground and watched him too run off without a further word to grab at his father's chin as he always did. Merle's face flushed with envy.

The others assembled were Rick, Andrea and a now almost fully grown Carl who stood taller than his father by a good few inches and still looked juvenile enough to be due to grow even more. Rick had become a tired old man with a face full of worry and a body no longer impressive enough to do his trusty police uniform any justice. Carol remembered washing that outfit over and over, scraping through the dirt every few days to get it as pristine as she could so he could throw it straight back on and strut around camp. The uniform had washed out and the color was almost completely faded to a sickly, creamy white. Time had not been kind to him, his face held the signs of years of pain- losing Lori and their baby girl to the Walkers had obviously been hard on him; he seemed to visibly sag where he stood, like life was slowly pushing him down and bending his spine towards the ground. Carol was confident without talking to him that the only thing keeping him alive was his son. Beside him stood a now much more muscular and confident looking Andrea who had blossomed into a stunning woman with deep, mature eyes. Her beautiful womanly figure was clad in a Michonne-inspired skimpy crop top that revealed a set of rock hard abs and some skin tight denim jeans which were wearing away at the knees. The last assembled was the seventeen year old Carl, stood beside his old man, his face covered in a set of dark red pimples. Carol sighed, Sophia and he could have been dating and enjoying some small taste of the old world together by now, that had always been her intention. Instead the poor boy looked nervous, gangly and weak. One by one the old group reacquainted themselves with the Carol, Daryl and they introduced themselves to Merle JR, exchanging hugs and well wishes until only Merle SR remained untouched and unregarded by his brother, which offended him deeply.

"Hey brother." Merle called out, interrupting the reunion, his tone more dark and angry now. He strode forwards and immediately clipped his brother around the ear then dragged him into a rough but meaningful hug. "You need ta keep better watch of ya bitch and son, they were pissing themselves out there without ya." Carol cringed deeply and looked wounded but Daryl hardly noticed the insult. He bounced around his brother, happy to see him again after all this time.

"You took your fuckin' time findin' the group Merle, you losin' the touch?" Daryl asked, his face drawing tightly into a cheeky grin. "We waited for fuckin' forever at the farm an' you never once showed up." The remark was brushed off by Merle who seemed not to take a word which came from his brother's mouth seriously. He shrugged, the same darkness shining from his eyes. "So wha' the hell happened after that whole hand thing big brother." Daryl begged, his son just as enamored by the tall, half shaven man as his father was. Carol backed away towards Andrea, still nervous despite everyone else's comfort with the older Dixon. She felt exposed in her tiny nightgown and was relieved when Rick finally presented his coat to her.

Merle SR recalled the story of his adventures in some detail as the newly gathered group idly collected supplies, focusing more on his story than their task. His voice traveled around the almost empty parking lot with extreme ease, carrying itself heavily on the lack of breeze like a gliding bird. He explained how a small band of survivors led by a colored man named Lee and his friend Kenny had found him on the outskirts of Atlanta city, stumbling half dead around the streets. When they felt he was strong enough to get back on his feet and fend for himself they agreed to drop him off at the campsite where he believed his brother would be waiting for him, but he arrived to find it empty aside from a number of shallow graves. After that he had picked up their trail using the map Rick had left on the red car and he had followed them for months on foot over rough terrain, trying to figure out which roads they had taken. It was like a maze to him, like every turn they took was completely irrelevant. He had found the sign for Sophia on the road but it had been long after the group had stopped looking for her. Years passed and somewhere along the line he had taken up camp in an abandoned mansion style house and finally accepted that all hope was lost and he had run out of options, but something kept him going, powering through the days of loneliness. He was out hunting one day when he had stumbled across a bunch of ex-inmates from 'The Prison'. They had explained that they had been thrown out of the prison by a rag tag bunch of survivors who had taken over by force, led by a cop. Merle had gathered the old criminal men and was all ready to wage war on the prison's new occupants before he realized who the 'cop' and his group could be. He had left the 'Prisoner' group and rejoined Rick's group, never looking back and always hoping he would get to see his brother again.

"So, that was that. And when little Merle J.R has all grown up and his kids want to know about his dumb fucker uncle ya can tell them he finally found ya." He smiled unpleasantly, crooked teeth pushing their way out into the sunlight like so many old tombstones competing for space in an overcrowded graveyard. His story over, Merle offered to take Daryl back to fix the bike while the others went on ahead and got settled in, an agreement which made Carol extremely happy. She couldn't wait to have a real shelter over her head and a 'real' doctor to take a look at her swollen stomach. It was causing her great concern and discomfort of late. She and the others departed from the brothers fondly and headed to the Prison in Rick's truck.

* * *

Merle and Daryl paced along the roads together like two brotherly lions. Between them they carried a tank of gas and a handful of weapons, their hunting instincts alert and an odd tension between them. Daryl had expected an outburst from his brother, an angry need for an explanation, why hadn't he gone back again and kept looking for him? Instead his brother just walked in silence, concentrating on their task.

"You know, she must be gettin' on a bit now your lady?" Merle asked suddenly after a long while of thought, badly trying to disguise his interest as innocent chatter. Daryl shot him a glare, warning him he was getting too close for comfort but Merle ignored it, swinging his arms and smirking. "What is she, like my age or a little older...?" His voice trailed off and Daryl didn't answer, walking along in silence. "Ya know, I have this little black bitch after me, says she had a thing fo' you a while back. Maybe you get a ride on her an' I get a try with your missus. Michonne's probably game... Not like ya married or nothin'."

"I don't think Carol's your type." Was the remark his brother hissed from between clenched teeth. Daryl was strangely calm, he had been through this more than once with his brother. He remembered the incident with Julianna, a neighbor girl Daryl had the hots for back when he was seventeen. He had walked in one night to find her wrapped naked and writhing around Merle right on the kitchen floor, both of them stinking of cheap vodka. He had shrugged off the offense and gone to bed only to be woken up a short while later by his brother who, apparently in the spirit of fairness, offered to share her. Daryl had thrown him out and locked his bedroom door, disturbed but not completely surprised. This was different though. Carol was 'the one' and there was no room for sharing. "Besides which I'm thinkin' of marryin' her." He added, pulling the ring box from his pocket and flashing it at his brother, who began to laugh.

"You happen to know a vicar?" He asked, which made Daryl's face fall and a tide of uneasiness overcome his confidence in the plan. "An' even if you did find yourself a rev who didn' die, what's she want that hunk o' junk for?" He added, snatching the ring from Daryl's palm and turning it over in his hands. "Of all the rings ya could've looted..."

"It were mum's." Was all Daryl could snap at his brother. Merle knew enough to give the ring back and stay quiet for a while. "Besides which," Daryl finally concluded, "Its not the 'married' bit that matters. I wan' her to know that I love her. She completes me, y'know?"

Merle nodded. He knew how much his brother loved her. His chest swelled as he painfully sucked air in and out. Funny thing that, he thought, how his baby brother had gone away and found love. He'd had a loving, beautiful baby boy of his own too, to top it off. He had found happiness whilst Merle had been forced to treck the wasteland searching for his brother for years, fighting off each Walker and bad winter that came his way and there was Daryl, snug in the arms of some woman. If it had been Daryl up on that rooftop, Merle would have shot T-Dogg dead and come back for him, never stopping until he knew what had happened.

But Daryl had run away with the others, to live a new life and without a care for his own flesh and blood, his own kin who had been abandoned. It brought him painfully back to the moment they found Dylan, their mother, strung up, it reminded him how much the two were alike and that he could never trust anyone. A tide of manic anger was slowly waving its red flag before the older Dixon's face, making him wish he could make his brother suffer for the suffering he had endured. It took a while for Merle to realize the only way he could get revenge was through a lot of careful planning. It was perfect, Daryl and Carol had accepted him immediately without any resistance. He could make a nest inside their family, right in the heart, and plunge his dagger in from the inside.

Daryl had misbehaved, Merle thought, running away with a woman he hadn't known for more than a few days when the brothers were parted. It was something he could not forgive. Just like his father, Merle's cruel streak blotted out his rationality and in his confused, dazed state the only thing he could envision was revenge. Though he was happy to see his brother, the sadistic part of him clung to the memory of hiding in a cave like a frightened little girl praying for Daryl's safety when he was off skipping around with some woman.

It was time to end his happiness, he decided. He kept a straight face as he helped Daryl to fix his bike and they slowly returned to the Prison. Inside, a cauldron of hatred had just reached boiling point and he was ready to burn the love out of his brother's relationship and take what should have been his, starting with the perfect wife and ending with the perfect family, leaving his brother with nothing but loneliness, just how he had felt all those years. The plot was perfect, he would execute it later.

But for the moment he allowed his brother to cling to his back as they sped down the road on the bike, feeling his warm body pressed up to his and enjoying the feeling that soon everything in Daryl's perfect little life would burn for his enjoyment. He smiled as the Prison burst into view and he ran the stump of his arm over the handlebars in front of him.

"You ready to go to hell?" He called over his shoulder to his brother, who nodded. "Good, 'cause your lookin' right at it."


	8. Chapter Seven: Dance With The Devil

**Note: Hello Readers!**

**Have you guys seen the trailer for Season 3 of TWD that they announced at Comicon? WOW. Looks fantastic.**

**So, this is just a REALLY short update and I'm hoping it doesn't sound rushed, 'cos it isn't. :/ I'm sorry I haven't been writing for y'all lately, I'm SO tired at the moment. Its friday tomorrow and I have nothing to do most of the day (and I finally have an idea to write down!) so I should have a nice long chapter for you guys to sink into by tomorrow. :)**

**As always, if you enjoy it review it, if not let me know why! Enjoy!**

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_Chapter Seven: Dance With The Devil_

_(You're one of God's children who fell from the top  
There's no diversity, we're all burning in the melting pot,  
So when the Devil wants to dance you better say never,  
Because the dance with the Devil might last you forever)_

"Daryl, please don't do this. I love you. You remember that don't you?" She whimpered, curled up into the corner of the room beneath a desk. He didn't know where they were but he felt himself shuffling forwards, reaching out for her, groaning. He felt something shift deep inside his stomach as it churned and twisted, hunger raging through his body and finding its way into his brain. She was so perfect, somehow she looked so delicious. He wanted nothing more than to fall on her and bite her, sink his sharp teeth into the beautiful peach flesh of her breasts or her thin pale neck, make her writhe under his body. The blood had gone from her face now and her eyes were wide in terror.

He wanted to slow down, to just watch her for a moment and figure out what it was scaring her. He couldn't stop himself from slowly drifting towards her, his hands flailing wildly towards her face. He felt his face contort into a toothy growl and the noises emerging from his mouth were involuntary, he moaned and groaned despite fighting to hold back the snarls, realising that must be what was scaring her. He knelt down next to her and stared straight into her eyes. That's when he saw it.

His heart jumped. The deep pupils of her eyes flickered over his face. He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her body totally still for a moment, staring into them and seeing his own ghastly face reflected in the depth of those beautiful orbs. His silver eyes narrowed and his bloody face tilted as he looked deeper and he watched his own jaw grinding back and forth of its own accord. A deep cut through one lip meant the whole lower half of his face was hung off and one eye was lacerated straight through the eyelid, seeping blood and puss down his face, dripping all the way into his mouth. Carol's eyes fogged over as she began to cry and struggle to push him away. His trance broke and he found himself throwing her backwards and leaping on her, pinning down her wrists and feet with his hands and knees.

He snapped at her face but she lent up and headbutted him. He wasn't dazed, but he reeled back and let out a blood curdling screech. Inside himself, he fought to hold his own head back but he couldn't stop himself from opening his jaws wide and throwing his head down, snapping his teeth into her neck with the force and accuracy of a bear trap. He felt the bones splinter and her jugular seeped warm blood onto his tongue as it burst.

Her entire body fell limp so she merely gazed up into his eyes with pain and fear. He chewed through her flesh, pulling the stringy tendons out of her neck and grabbing at them with his hands, ripping them apart and stuffing them into his mouth. She tried to scream but instead blood gargled around her mouth and throat, muffling the noise and making her choke. The whole world grew dark as he fed, screaming 'no' silently through his possessed body. She died in his arms, glaring up at him.

Daryl awoke from the dream with a loud gasp that brought Carol abruptly out of her own light sleep. She rolled over in their tiny prison bed that was barely big enough for them to share and saw the sweat pouring from his forehead, his head resting on his hands as he cleared his mind. Immediately she knew he was having 'the dream' again, he didn't look at her, ashamed of his own subconscious. She placed a hand lightly on his shoulder but he shrugged it off and pulled on a pair of jeans under the covers. He zipped up and tiptoed out of their cell to avoid waking up Merle JR who slept on a small mattress which had been dragged in for him the day before.

The group had met up the afternoon before in the prison as soon as Merle SR and Daryl returned, speeding up to the great stone building on the bike like a pair of children, giggling and chatting. Carol was unhappy to see how small the group seemed; over the years they had lost Beth, Lori and T-Dogg. Only the haggard Rick and the lanky Carl seemed to radiate the same friendliness any more as both brightened up when they walked through the door, the others seemed colder and more worn out.

Michonne lent against the door frame as the group walked in and she seemed amazed to see Carol alive with her son gleefully in tow. Her body was no different and certainly no worse for wear over the five years since they had met, she still had an impressive figure and she flaunted it, wrapping herself in a tight pair of jeans and a crop top that matched Andrea's. The two women met with an affectionate hug before taking to leaning intimately on one another and eyeing the newcomers. Daryl looked around at them warily, noticing Michonne's gaze on him. He frowned at her and she turned away, smiling to herself.

Maggie and Glenn were cuddled together like schoolchildren on a cold stone bench when the procession came into the main prison hall. They seemed unchanged aside from the new lines of age visible in both their permanently worried faces. Beside them sat a haggard, wrinkly Hershel who seemed so much older and weaker after the death of his youngest daughter, it was clear her passing had taken its toll on him. All three of them turned their heads and broke into smiles as Carol and Merle JR bounded towards them, holding out their arms in greeting. They were swiftly joined by Daryl who clapped hands with Glenn and shook his arm, smiling with delight to see him. They had never really bonded, but Glenn did nothing wrong and Daryl respected his inner strength.

With the group gathered, Carol looked around and her face dropped a little. Maggie, Hershel, Glenn, Rick, Carl, Merle SR, Andrea and Michonne. No hunter, no mother figure and a young boy with nobody of his own age, the group looked to be in a bad way. Her lip quivered slightly and she recognised a deep emptiness she hadn't noticed since she watched the CDC burn. There was no Lori, Jacqui, Beth, Patricia; none of those girls she had come to depend on. No Dale, Jimmy and T-Dogg offering a wise, responsible eye to keep the group safe and she even missed Shane, the hothead who brought truth and relief by unleashing Sophia and exposing her. Awkwardly, she even missed Ed who would be leering over the group, staring at her with his permanently disappointed look by now. Her heart skipped a beat and she found it impossible to mask the disappointment on her face. It was as though she had expected things to go back to the way they were.

The night cast shadows around their room, leaving thin streaks of darkness across Merle JR's face. She watched Daryl walk determinedly out of their cell and she flopped back down onto their bed. He strolled into the main hall and slammed himself down into a chair, his eyes stinging as he tried not to weep with frustration at his dream and at their situation. He too felt bad to see the group in such a bad way. Perhaps, he considered, he should have stayed and helped the group to survive. Most of their old friends were much thinner and looked as though they had failed to find their own food and make their own way. He knew that Merle was a good hunter but he was lazy and selfish, obviously it would fall to Daryl to hunt should he decide to stay. He would have to provide for his family anyway, so adding a few extra orders to his hunting trips wouldn't be a far stretch. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely noticed Carol creeping up to him.

"Daryl?" She muttered, breaking him from his thoughts as she slowly snaked both arms around his chest and pulled him backwards so he lent off the chair and into her embrace. She snuggled him tightly and he smiled a little, enjoying her tenderness. With a single kiss planted gently on his neck his troubles melted away for a while and he turned towards her, grabbing her around the waist and tugging her, giggling, onto his knee. They sunk into a deep kiss which swiftly became lusty, he tilted her onto him and she threw both legs around his hips, straddling him and throwing her head back as he kissed her neck, nibbling lightly on her skin.

Merle SR watched from the upper level of the main hall. His face grew green with envy. He strode along the balcony and listened to Carol's giggles, watched as his brother threw her over his shoulder and carried her back to their cell like Tarzan. They were undressing each other before they even vanished into their room, like sex starved teenagers they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Something stirred in Merle as he watched their cell door creak shut behind them and he swiftly turned and paced into the room where Michonne and Andrea slept soundly in bunk beds.

"Hey, bitches. How are my girls?" He purred, stirring them both from slumber. "Anyone fancy sitting on daddy's knee for a while?" He smirked and watched both women turn their attention to him. Andrea jumped down to the floor from the top bunk like a cat and she padded up to him, putting one hand on his chest and pushing him backwards towards the door.

"I don't think we need you in here right now, Merle." Her voice was angry but sleepy, she tried to be forceful but he could see the tiredness in her eyes. Michonne sat up behind her, awake and alert with her ever-alluring gaze fixed on him. "We're sleeping. Not in the mood." He glared at her and slapped her hand away.

"Yeah right blondie." He growled, pushing her aside. She frowned as Michonne sat up and nodded, accepting Merle into bed with her. "I'll just bed Michonne, not you, you can have my room if ya mind the noise." He winked at Andrea who frowned and stormed away, slamming the door behind her. Merle and Michonne lept under the covers and wrapped their bodies around each other. "I didn't want her gettin' involved anyway." He muttered through moans as his dark skinned lover unbuckled his jeans hastily. "Ya got ass for the both of ya." He spanked her roughly and pinned her down under him.


End file.
